memento vivere
by Defiant.Anjeru
Summary: Piers fully expected to die, but by some miracle, he survived the Neo-Umbrella facility. Chris wrestles with the guilt while doing everything he can to help the young ace regain his memory - and not entirely for unselfish reasons...Nivansfield. Rated Mature.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **So...this is going to be my first time adventuring into the Resident Evil fanfiction. I am going to say straight off, I'm addicted to – and a huge supporter of – Chris and Piers. If that isn't what you want, then I would suggest going back now. I adore reviews, so if you have a moment, I'd love to hear some feedback. :3

First bit is short, more of a story set-up prologue if you will.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it.

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**memento vivere**

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**July 1st, 2013**

Piers Nivans held no delusions. He was a soldier, through and through. He knew the score. He knew what would become of him the moment he made his choice. He wasn't coming back from this, but he had no other option; his captain, his friend, would have died if he hadn't injected himself with the C-Virus. Chris wasn't having any of it. The captain thought they were both going to make it out of Neo Umbrella's underwater facility alive, but Piers knew better. Even if he did get out of here, there was no telling what he would do once the two of them were in an enclosed space. The C-Virus was unpredictable with its mutations and soon he would lose himself and become the very monsters they had fought all this time.

If it meant saving Chris...well, he could die a monster.

Piers sighed and closed his eyes, as best as he could given the mutation had spread up into his face. He ripped his B.S.A.A. patch from his sleeve and climbed up with Chris's help. Piers opened his eyes and pressed his lips together in determination, to steel himself. He ripped his hand free from Chris and shook his head.

"Piers?"

The captain's features were set with uncertainty. It hurt Piers to do this to him, knowing how much guilt Chris carried on his shoulders, but he knew it had to be done. He reared back his good arm and shoved the larger man into the escape pod. The doors shut even as Chris screamed at him. Their eyes met and it felt like his heart was tearing in two.

_I told him I did it for the B.S.A.A. For the future. But it was for him...I couldn't let him die. _Piers limped over toward the lever that would release the pod.

"Open this pod right now, Piers! That's an order! Goddamnit, Piers!" Chris beat his fists against the pod as he screamed and Piers knew it was hard enough to draw blood. "We can still get out of here! Both of us! Don't do this! Piers!"

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to go back to his captain and leave with him, maybe explore whatever it was that he felt between them. That was no longer an option. He was not going to risk the captain's life, even for that.

"I'm sorry, captain." He hit the lever and stepped back as it prepared to launch. Red lights flashed all around him as the facility shook. He mouthed the words he couldn't say – _I love you –_ as Chris slammed his hands against the glass. Then the pod launched and Chris was gone, the escape pod shooting through the water toward the surface.

He collapsed back onto his ass and hung his head, grimacing as pain lanced through his body. The virus was spreading, he could feel as it moved through every bit of his body – bones, muscle, tissue, organs; it was only a matter of time now.

A roar caught his attention and his head snapped up, muscles protesting. Through the chute, he could see Ada's ultimate creation racing its way toward Chris's escape pod.

_No, no. I got him out. He can't die. _

Piers groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He raised his arm, the mutated weapon, and aimed it up the chute. _One last fuck you. _He held it as long as he could, the weapon draining him with each pulse, and then with a yell, he released it up the chute and into the water. It hit the monster and did its job, prying it free and electrocuting it, so that Chris's pod could reach the surface. Once he was sure Chris was safe, he allowed himself to fall back once more, except this time he landed flat on his back as his chest heaved.

_How long before I lose my mind? _He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. _I could end it before I become one of them..._He patted himself down for a weapon, but found nothing. _Great, probably lost them all in that bitch of a fight. _He sighed soundlessly and let his eyes open as the facility became more unstable around him in its shudders. _Fuck this hurts. _

_Wonder how long I have left. At least Chris is safe..._

His vision swam and he wanted to let go, but for some reason, he couldn't. Hadn't that agent, Leon Kennedy, said something about an anti-bodies for a vaccine? Could it change him back, or was it just to prevent the uninfected from becoming infected?

God, he didn't want to let Chris go like that. Even now he wanted to go to him, knowing nothing good would come out of it. He had chosen to follow his captain when it seemed like his control was slipping, when he wasn't certain if they would be safe. How was that different from now? It wouldn't be really, except that their positions had become reversed. Would Chris trust him like this?

_Chris..._

He rolled himself over and hefted himself onto his feet. With a grunt, he hit the lever of a nearby pod and jumped inside before it sealed shut. He lost himself as it shot toward the surface, vision swimming in black and breaths labored. He breathed his captain's name one last time like a prayer and then saw nothing but an infinite space of black.

* * *

Chris screamed and fought, swinging blindly, as B.S.A.A. soldiers hefted him free of the escape pod where it had landed on the beach. He kept screaming Piers' name, even knowing it would change nothing. Piers was gone and it was his fault. Just as all the others that had died before him had been.

"Calm down, captain! You're safe now." One of the men reassured, clasping at his heaving shoulder.

"Piers – " he shook his head and stumbled away from the man toward the water.

"It's too late captain," he said solemnly as he followed Chris down the beach. "The facility is gone." He dropped his eyes to the sand. "I'm sorry for your loss, Redfield."

Chris snapped around and grabbed the man by the straps of his vest, growling loud. "He's not dead!" The agent remained calm in the force of Chris's unequaled grief. Chris let him go and stepped back, dragging his fingers through his short hair. "He's not dead," he repeated, much quieter this time as if the denial wasn't as fierce as before.

"The vaccine is well on its way to being produced, captain. Nivans's actions will not be forgotten, I assure you. I won't let them forget," the agent promised.

"Thanks," Chris mumbled.

"Sir!" Another soldier came running toward them, clearly out of breath. He quickly saluted the two of them, before he went on. "There's reports for Foxtrot that there is another pod washing up further down the beach!"

"Another pod?" The agent looked pointedly at Chris.

_Oh god...Piers! Hang on Piers, I'm coming! It's my turn to save you. _Unknowing of how the B.S.A.A. agents would react to Piers' appearance, Chris turned and ran down the beach in the direction the soldier had come from.

He had to reach Piers first.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. I was smiling when I checked my inbox. Thank you!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. If I did...well, you'd see more Chris/Piers.

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**memento vivere**

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**July 4th, 2013**

"This isn't necessary," Chris snapped for what had to be the tenth time. He didn't want to be here, but the doctor had insisted on dragging him off to a different room to check his wounds and re-bandage them. "I'm fine."

"No need to be so surly," doctor Jean grumbled. "I could just let you be and wait for an infection to sit in, if you'd prefer." Chris continued to grumble but didn't fight the doctor as she ordered him to take off his shirt so she could start unwrapping his bandages. She checked his stitches and nodded. "They seem to be healing up nicely. Still...that was pretty reckless, what you did. Now instead of celebrating our independence, you're in here."

Chris wanted to roll his eyes, but the doc was right. It had been pretty reckless.

**July 1st, 2013**

_Chris's lungs worked hard as he pumped his arms, bolting as fast as his legs would carry him down the sandy beach. The B.S.A.A.'s agents had been quick to follow suit, but they weren't on his tail quite yet. He could reach the pod first, if he just kept going. He couldn't stop, not now, not even give his abused body a much needed rest. He had to get to Piers first; there was no telling how the agents would react if the pod did indeed carry the C-virus infected soldier. _

_There! Through his blurred vision he could make out the glint of sun shining off the side of the escape pod. He forced himself to move faster. His boots thudded across the sand and his breaths were harsh in the ocean air. He nearly collapsed when he reached the pod, but somehow managed to keep himself upright knowing this wasn't the time to stop. He still needed to get inside. His hopes were up when he knew they shouldn't be. There was no way to know if the pod carried Piers, or had just been launched automatically from the facility just before its complete destruction. _

_Piers had to be okay, though. He couldn't allow himself to think otherwise. He was so tired of his squad-mates being sacrificed for the greater good while he came out nearly unharmed. Too many had died on his watch; being assigned to him was essentially signing death certificates. _

_Damn if he was going to let Piers be added to that ever-growing list. _

_He slammed his fist against the controls on the outside of the pod. It hissed in protest but the pod doors budged apart just enough so that he could wedge his hands between them. He gripped the edges of the doors and groaned loud as he tried to pull them apart. The metal cut through his gloves and bit into his flesh, but he merely hissed in pain, not stopping. He was slowly prying the pod open and, after what felt like a moment of eternity, they finally slid fully open. _

_And there was Piers. He was unconscious, clearly. Chris could see that the mutation had spread some, moving up from his arm to his face and across his chest. Shit, one look at that arm that had saved him and those B.S.A.A. agents would open fire on him like they would any other BOW. He was going to have to explain before someone's trigger finger got itchy. _

_He climbed into the pod and leaned down on his haunches beside Piers' prone form. He put his index and middle finger to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. When he found it, he let out a relieved breath. Well, Piers was alive but he was still not in good condition. He had to get him help, get him to Sherry Birkin and Jake; he needed to find out if they had been successful in creating a cure, or a vaccine, to the C-virus. If they had, there was a chance they could still get to Piers before it was too late. _

"_Captain!" Shit, the others were coming down the stretch of beach to the pod. That didn't give him much time to explain. _

_He jumped up and moved to stand in the open hatch of the escape pod, effectively blocking most of Piers' body from their view. "Let me explain!" He put his hands up peacefully as the others – all six of them – came to a stop 8 or so feet away from the pod. _

"_Explain?" The agent eyed him warily, then dipped them to try and glance past Chris. _

"_Agent Piers Nivans is alive and in the pod – "_

"_Bring him out, he could be in need of medical attention."_

"_He is, it's just – "_

"_Redfield, what are you waiting for?" _

"_He's..." Before Chris could finish, they all heard a groan and Piers lumbered shakily to his feet. Chris couldn't block the way fast enough to keep them from seeing Piers and his changes. They were kind of hard to miss once you spotted them(or even if you hadn't). Chris's heart leaped into his throat when he heard pistols being cocked and the agent shouting orders to his men. _

"_He's infected! Shoot to kill!" _

"_No!" Chris screamed. "Don't shoot, it's not too – "_

_But they didn't listen and all released a shot. Chris didn't think, he just moved. He shoved Piers back and away, stepping directly into the path of the 9mm bullets. They hit him and tore through flesh, some burying into his body, others flying all the way through. He managed not to fall, bracing his good arm on the side of the hatch, heaving as blood dripped from his new wounds. "STOP! There's a cure! A VACCINE! We just need to get him back to the B.S.A.A.!" _

**July 4th, 2013**

But then Piers, had been lost momentarily to the virus, and had raged. Chris was forced to knock him unconscious but that was preferable to the agents unleashing more bullets. They had subdued him and tied him as best they could until they were able to get him back to the labs. Which was where they were at now. Chris had suffered three bullet wounds to his abdomen, two in one arm, and one in the other. Hence why he was being scrutinized by doctor Jean.

Reckless or not, he didn't regret stepping in between Piers and those bullets.

He didn't want to be here though. He wanted to be in Piers' room and watch over him, but doctor Jean kept dragging him off to check on his wounds insisting it wouldn't make much of a difference because Piers hadn't woke in the three days they'd been there. "A few moments won't hurt," were her words exactly, but Chris didn't want Piers waking up without him there. If anyone was going to keep an eye on the younger soldier, it was going to be him. It was his fault Piers ended up like this.

"All done there," doctor Jean finally said, "you can put your shirt back on. Last bit – need to check your leg."

Chris didn't bother to fight her this time. If he cooperated, he could get out of here faster. After a few moments, and a new bandage, she nodded and informed him she was finished. He was quick to slip his pants back on and head for the door, but she stopped him before he could make his exit.

"You're stressing too much, Redfield."

He frowned but turned back to her. "Say again?"

"I don't think Nivans would want you doing this to yourself." Jean sighed and gave him a concerned look. "You haven't been sleeping much, you haven't been eating, and you aren't taking care of yourself. It's obvious you feel guilty about what happened but – "

"What, you my shrink now?"

"No but Chris – "

"I'm fine," he grumbled before he turned and left the room. He should be doing what she said, taking some time and nurse his wounds – both the emotional and physical ones. He couldn't though. Every thought he had was about Piers. He had to be there when he woke, see that he didn't blame Chris for what happened, to see that he was going to be alright. The kid was in pretty rough shape and they still weren't sure if he was going to pull through; if Piers wasn't going to make it, there was no way Chris was going to let him be alone.

**July 6th, 2013**

Chris rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. Then scrubbed his hands over his face. The monitors were blurry to him, probably due to exhaustion. He'd been napping when he could, but never well; too many nightmares within reach. The doctors said that the anti-virus was working, but Piers had yet to wake up. The mutations had receded, but he was scarred wherever the virus had spread; his chest, his entire arm, and parts of his face. Chris had never noticed any vanity in Piers, but he doubted that the scarring was going to be easy to ignore.

The beeping on the monitors caught his attention. Piers' heart rate was increasing and the doctors outside the room began to go into a frantic blast of conversation. Chris pulled himself up to Piers' bedside and looked down into the young man's face, which was now pulled tight with tension. Piers moaned and his eyes fluttered open. He swallowed thickly and licked his parch lips.

"Water..." he groaned weakly.

Chris nodded and rushed to do as he requested, filling a glass of water and bringing it to Piers. He slid his hand behind the young man's neck and helped him down the water. Piers coughed and nearly choked on the water, but after a moment he laid back and sighed.

"Thank you..."

Chris nodded and sat back down in the chair, but stayed close to the bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak...tired...sore..." Piers lifted his good hand and put it to his forehead. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Piers shook his head; Chris thought it might be a good thing he couldn't remember. "You injected yourself with the C-Virus to save me."

Piers glanced over at Chris, his eyes clouded with confusion. "I don't know who you are."


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: **Thank you for all your reviews, alerts, and favorites. I am not writing this for that, but I appreciate them beyond belief. It really makes my day to see that people are actually enjoy what I write.

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, Resident Evil does not belong to me, or else Piers would still be with us. :

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**memento vivere**

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**July 13th, 2013**

Despite the week that had passed, what Chris had learned had not become any easier. Piers had no memory of Chris or of the B.S.A.A. The doctors attributed this to physical trauma mixed with recovering from the C-virus; they may have created a cure – a vaccine – but that didn't mean the completely understood what the virus did beyond mutations. Chris grit his teeth and raked his fingers through his short, dark hair.

This was all Ada Wong's fault – or so he had thought. More Intel had been coming to the B.S.A.A. The woman who had effectively killed off both of Chris's squads in the last six months had not been who they thought; Leon had reported sightings of Ada Wong after Chris and Piers had seen her die. The Intel was hard to find, but Leon Kennedy went out of his way to clear Ada Wong's name, believing her to be falsely accused. It was because of Leon that the woman's true identity came to light – her name had been Carla Radames. She was believed to be the creator of the C-Virus and had been betrayed by Derek Simmons who used the virus to rebirth her as a copy of Ada Wong.

Chris didn't much care who she was; if she wasn't dead right now, he was sure he'd finish the job. Piers may have brought Chris around in their chase of Ada Wong, but seeing what Piers had gone though – _was _going through – he could see himself forgetting to do the right thing just to be able to see her suffer, as they had. As they still were.

It was tearing Chris up inside that Piers didn't remember him. Was this how Piers had felt when he'd found Chris in that bar, with no memory of Piers and the B.S.A.A.? It was a bit ironic, he realized. Was this karma for the way he'd treated Piers; karma for losing every single one of his men when he had been capable of saving their lives if he had been able to put aside his need for vengeance? Piers had tried to talk sense into him, but Chris had refused to listen and his soldiers had paid the price with their lives.

Something Chris was never going to forget. The guilt on his shoulders had began with Edonia and had only grown since then. And now there was guilt for what had happened to Piers.

They may have butted heads during their mission in China, but Chris didn't want the kid to be in pain, he didn't want Piers to suffer if he could help it in any way. His second in command meant a great deal to him, but how great, he wasn't sure. He'd caught himself thinking of the young man in ways he shouldn't have and had blamed it on the adrenaline, however, the profound sense of loss he felt now told him it couldn't be blamed on endorphins.

_You don't know what you got until you lose it,_ Chris thought bitterly.

He didn't know what to do.

He wanted to help Piers any way he could, but the young man seemed uncomfortable in his presence, so Chris had opted to start staying in his own room until that passed – although he had requested that his quarters be temporarily relocated nearby in case Piers needed help(or him).

Chris scrubbed his hand across his stubble with a sigh.

When he had been suffering amnesia, Piers had tracked him down and taken him back to the B.S.A.A. They had thrown him back in as Captain, though he retained no memory of his time in the agency. When he saw the cocoons...that's when the memories had come back, particularly those of Edonia. How he had let himself forget, even for a moment, was beyond him. If he hadn't forgotten, perhaps they could have stopped Carla sooner and prevented...all of this.

_Goddammit. I have to do something – anything. _

Chris swung his legs over the bedside and stalked toward the door, but then hesitated with his hand hovering over the keypad.

_But what can I do? _

The doctors insisted that Piers' memory would come back in time. They just didn't know how much time it would take; it could days, weeks, months, even _years_.

_It could be worse,_ he reminded himself, _he could be dead. It's a miracle he's even here. _

He froze when he heard a low groan of pain. It had to be Piers; he was suffering nightmares, along with lingering complications of the infection. He keyed in the code quickly and then strode into the hall, finding Piers' room as fast as he could.

The young man was twisted in his sheets, his good hand clutching at his scarred arm. Sweat trickled down his brow and his expression was dark, facial muscles pulled taut. He groaned again, his head thrashing on the pillow.

Chris's fingers curled in, his hands balling into fists. Piers had sacrificed everything time and again to save Chris – both his life, and from himself. It was unfair that the young, talented, friendly soldier had to continue suffering, even after the world had been saved(at least for the time being – the threat of bio-terrorism never really faded).

"Piers?" Chris uncurled his fingers and cautiously approached the bed. No answer. He laid his hand on top on Piers' brow and frowned; feverish again. It was taking a lot to keep the virus at bay – they had not been able to completely cure it, but the vaccine was proving to help his body fight it. There had been no mutations and his previous ones had faded to scars.

"Captain," Piers moaned. "Captain – Chris!"

Chris yanked his hand back with a sharp intake of breath. Did Piers remember who he was in his dreams, his nightmares; were those dreams, those nightmares, memories he couldn't recall in his waking hours? Chris could remember the nightmares he'd had after Edonia, only to realize in China that he had been suffering his memories all along.

With a sigh, he scrubbed his hands across his tired face. Then he turned and moved to the nearby medical table, fetching a sedative from within the drawer. He couldn't wake Piers now. The fever meant his body was fighting the infection and he needed to be able to rest peacefully. He moved to Piers' I.V. and slipped in the sedative. The doctors had showed him how to do so, without risking an overdose, but was sure to remind him that he at least write down whenever he gave Piers a dose.

He plopped into the chair beside the bed and watched over Piers as he fell into a more restful slumber.

* * *

"_Captain!" _

_Piers screamed as Haos reached out it's jelly like hand, grasping Chris in it and squeezing relentlessly. **Goddammit! No, no! Can't let this happen! **Piers had to wrench himself free, his arm severely wounded; broken, for sure, and if he dared a glance, he knew he would find a mangled limb there. **Have to do something! **_

_His eyes searched frantically for a weapon, but found none – not that he could use one. His gaze landed on the sample of the C-virus that had fallen to the floor. He had no choice. If he had to become one of those things – a bio organic weapon, a freak mutation – to save Chris, a man whom he'd come to love and greatly respect, then he could do it. He just hoped the captain would be able to forgive him for doing this. _

_It all happened so quickly. He crawled. Grabbed the syringe. Stabbed himself and infected himself with the C-virus. The mutations. And him using that weapon – a fucking pulse gun for an arm. All to save Chris. _

"_Oh god! Piers! What did you do?" _

Piers gasped and bolted up in his hospital bed. His skin was cold and clammy, his temples pounding, his scarred arm aching. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself – from what, he wasn't sure. He had been dreaming about something important, but he couldn't remember.

His soft brown eyes found the man sleeping in the chair beside his bed. The man who felt irrevocably familiar and yet...Piers didn't know him. He had no memories of this man – Chris Redfield. The name alone struck a chord in him.

He groaned and clutched at his temples.

"Piers?" Chris's voice soothed the pain somehow and he lifted his gaze to the man where he'd sat up in the chair.

"Headache," he supplied with half a shrug.

"You alright?" Piers knew he wasn't alright but he nodded anyway. "Do you...have you remembered anything whatsoever?"

"Not really..."

He and Chris lapsed into silence. The air was thick with tension he couldn't place. Chris's eyes never left him and Piers found it comforting, as if he knew he had someone looking out for him.

"Listen Piers, I had some ideas, about how to help with your memory – "

"Is my memory really so important?" Piers interjected. He glanced down at the scarred half of his body and frowned. "Maybe it's better if I don't remember."

"I thought the same thing once Piers, but I was wrong. You're the one who showed me that I couldn't run from my past," Chris sighed and cupped his knees with his hands. "You dragged me back and helped me. It's my turn to help you."

"I don't need any help," he denied.

"You're trying to run from it. You can't."

"What did you run from?" Piers asked, genuinely curious; the man seemed as if he spoke from experience.

"I suffered from amnesia myself, not too long ago. After a mission in Edonia where you and I watched our fellow soldiers die. You tracked me down after six months and dragged me back to the B.S.A.A. I can understand how you feel, Piers; it hurt to remember, and I didn't want to. I just wanted to drink, drown that pain before it could surface." Chris raked his hand through his short hair. "I figured if it hurt badly enough for me to forget, then maybe it should stay forgotten."

Piers could remember none of this, but it would explain why the man felt so familiar when he had no memory of him. "Were we close?"

Chris's expression was guarded, eyes wary, but he nodded. "You were my second in command. You trusted me inexplicably when I didn't deserve it. And I trusted you without reserve, even when I couldn't remember who you were."

"That all?"

"...yes." And oddly enough, Chris sounded almost as disappointed as he felt.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: **Very sorry about the long, long pause in this piece. It is subject to my writing muse's whims; sadly, she did not wish to cooperate there for awhile(not just with this either, but all writing in general).

**Disclaimer: **Resident Evil doesn't belong to me.

* * *

**memento vivere**

* * *

**July 20th, 2013**

Piers swung his fist and grunted when it hit the training bag again, for at least the hundredth time. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and he paused to wipe it away with the back of a wrapped hand. The exercise was keeping him sane, even if his body protested the early over use of his abused muscles. Down time meant time to think, the one thing he wanted nothing to do with.

"At it again? You should be resting."

He didn't have to look to know who was standing in the door way. Chris, the friend he couldn't remember, had taken up being his protector. The ever watchful eye. Piers shook his head but didn't look at him, instead returning to jabbing at the sand filled training bag. Each thump of his fist helped to work away that frustration that came with not being able to remember who Chris was. Brief knowledge of what the B.S.A.A. was had started to come back to him in pieces but Chris was still one big, blank smear across his memory. There was nothing, beyond the instinct in his gut that told him he knew this man and knew him well.

"I'm fine." He said the two words between punches. "They discharged me, didn't they?"

"Under orders for strict supervision and the condition that you didn't push yourself. Something I've caught you doing each day since you've been out of that hospital bed."

"I need it," Piers bit out.

"Damnit Nivans, stop it." The voice came closer and before Piers could hit the bag again, Chris grabbed his wrist. He was forced to meet the older man's umber eyes. He wanted to fidget nervously under the scrutinizing concern he saw in them. "Stop it," he said, more gently this time as he released Piers' wrist. "You haven't fully recovered. You shouldn't be pushing yourself so much."

Piers took an unconscious step back, putting some space between them. "I haven't done anything I can't handle," he replied with a noncommittal shrug. It wasn't the truth, not entirely, but Chris didn't know that. "They wouldn't have released me if they found me unfit."

Chris's dark brow rose curiously as he tried to suppress a smile. "They released you because you were driving them crazy, what with all that pacing and endless inquires of when you would be free to go."

"I wasn't that bad."

"I think the nurses complained. Shame, since they all thought you were so cute."

Piers scoffed. "Now you're just making that up." He shook his head and wandered to his locker, putting his back to the man because he didn't want him to see the blush in his cheeks. It wasn't that the nurses had thought he was cute. No. It was the way Chris had said it, as if he too thought Piers was cute.

"Am not," Chris said with a slight bite, as if he'd been insulted by Piers accusation. "Baby face Nivans, isn't that what they called you?"

"Don't remind me," Piers sighed as he rolled his eyes. Then he chuckled and used a towel to pat his face dry of sweat. "Not exactly what a grown man wants to be known for."

"I understand that," Chris admitted. Piers stiffened as the man came to stand behind him. "Does sexy sound better? I heard that too. Along with – kissable lips, bedroom eyes, etc etc."

Had the man's voice grown just a tad huskier? Piers swallowed and shut the locker, laughing it off as he paced away from the man for space. He tried to take calm, easy breaths to calm his nerves, wondering why – for the millionth time – why the man's presence affected him so.

"You didn't come here just to tell me what the nurses thought of me," he replied after a minute. "I'm done for today so you don't have to keep such a close eye on me. I'm not going to do anything else that would qualify as 'pushing' myself."

"I'm not so sure about that but I...trust you, Piers, so I'll take your word for it."

He left him alone then and Piers had to sit on one of the benches with a sigh. Again he found himself thinking of how disappointed Chris had sounded when he'd admitted that there had been nothing between them but friendship; comrades who had each others backs and trusted each other inexplicably, but nothing more. Why did that disappoint him as much as it had seemed to disappoint Chris? He couldn't even remember the man!

Out of everything – the pain, the nightmares he could never remember, the scars – that seemed to be the one thing that hurt and frustrated him the most. What exactly had Chris Redfield meant to him that he would experience such distress at not being able to remember him?

"Don't think about it," he reminded himself sternly. It would only bring the migraines and, when he finally passed out, the nightmares would follow.

"Don't think about what?" Chris's voice made him jump. When had the man returned? He bit the inside of his cheek and turned toward the door. Chris was leaning against the door jam, arms folded across his muscular chest. His brows creased. "Are you remembering something?"

Piers swallowed and shook his head. "Nothing beyond the basics. Just telling myself not to think on it. Gives me headaches."

"You alright?" His voice was filled with genuine concern.

"I'm good." Piers fidgeted. "Something you needed?"

"Huh?" Chris blinked and then nodded. "I'm almost forgotten; dinner is ready in the mess. Thought I'd let you know. Seems like you could use a few minutes, though."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll be there soon."

After Chris left, Piers went back to the training bag because he was unable to get the man out of his mind and with that came the questions. The too many questions that he had no answers for. Questions he resolved to ignore.

* * *

**July 23rd, 2013**

It was three days later when Chris approached him, intent on doing something or another. There was a steel glint of determination in the man's eyes. Probably due to the fact that Piers had been avoiding him since the locker room, when he had promised himself he wasn't going to linger on questions he couldn't answer. Questions that mainly consisted of the man approaching. He had no where to run, sitting in the middle of the mess. Running from him would only draw the unwanted, scrutinizing stares of the others strewn about the cafeteria.

"You avoiding me?" Chris asked.

Well, that hadn't been subtle. Piers blinked. "You told me I needed to rest."

"Three days?" He raised a brow, skepticism written all over his hardened features. "You've been resting for three days?"

"I was tired?" Piers tried to look convincing.

Whether Chris believed him or not, he just shook his head with a small laugh. "Beside the point, anyway." Chris sat across him, that steel determination still in his eyes. "We have a mission."

"Mission?" Piers lips curled wryly. "The doctors would sooner kill me than let me out of here. As I'm sure the rest of the B.S.A.A. would do the same."

Chris frowned. "That's not true, Piers. Why do you say that?"

"Have you looked at me lately, Redfield? I'm not exactly the poster boy for the B.S.A.A. Who knows if I'm really infection free? I bet every single one of these soldiers look at my scars and wonder when I'm going to turn on them."

"That's not true. Don't you ever think that!" Chris said the words loudly, causing eyes to swing toward them, but he didn't seem to care. " I care – we care about you because you're one of our own. I trust you; we trust you. You're not a danger to us and they know that."

Piers shrugged. "You said we have a mission?"

"Oh, yeah." He calmed somewhat. "You did this once for me – dragged me off into battle and forced me to confront what I'd forgotten. It's my turn to do it for you."

It was Piers turn to look skeptical. "You think it's going to bring my memory back? It may never come back; the doctors even said so. This is a long shot."

"They said about me once, but you didn't give up on me. I'm not giving up on you either. It may be a long shot, but it's the shot we have. I'm taking it. Are you in?"

He thought about it for a long moment before he nodded. "I don't think I could take you out of this even if I wanted to."


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: **Again, my muse seems to be finicky with this fic. My apologies. However! I have recently replayed Chris's campaign in Resident Evil 6 and found I had the urge to work on this. So yay! I hope the update was worth the wait; thank you so much for all of your support thus far!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it.

* * *

**memento vivere**

* * *

**July 25th, 2013**

Chris sighed and dragged a hand across his face. He hunkered down against the wall of the small, abandoned warehouse they had chosen to bunk down in for a few hours. Enough time to rest and eat something to keep their bodies going. The mission had been uneventful thus far; initial reports had led them to believe that Ada Wong - the real Wong - had been spotted in the vicinity, along with possible b.o.w's. Yet, a full day of scouting, and nothing at all beside an uneasily deserted mountain town. Too much more, without something concrete to report to HQ, and they would have to turn back.

"You okay Captain?"

Piers' voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to look at the younger man. His brows were drawn tight over his eyes, concern etched into his features, although his eyes were filled with nothing but frustration and confusion; just as the mission had gone nowhere, Piers' memories remained dormant. Once he had been optimistic about the mission and what it could do, but it was turning out to be a let down. God, he remembered telling Piers that he'd wanted to turn in his gun, have the younger take over for him - but he couldn't do that, not with Piers like this. He deserved to be himself, memories and all, despite the scars.

"Fine," Chris muttered. He rubbed his hand across his face again and then shook his head. "That's not true. HQ gave us shaky information and it's turning out to be nothing but bullshit. How's your head? Headaches or anything?"

"I'm fine." Peirs shrugged off his question. "This is a good thing, isn't it? No b.o.w's means no casualties."

His words made sense, but Chris wasn't convinced; this was about more. A part of him felt desperate about helping Piers regain his memories. He couldn't certain if that desperation stemmed from worry, or his own guilt and selfishness. "Good point," Chris conceded.

"I'm on watch," Piers said abruptly, "you should be resting."

Chris shrugged, not wanting to admit his aversion to sleeping, not wanting to admit to the nightmares he suffered every time he closed his eyes. Lately, they consisted of that fateful night in the underwater Neo-Umbrella facility; sometimes it was Edonia, or Finn and his men, or even Marco and China, but eventually each and every nightmare turned to Piers. His younger friend was his most recent failure when it came to protecting his men.

"I'm not tired," Chris finally offered in response.

Piers nodded but said nothing, the two of them lapsing into an oddly comfortable silence – even if Piers had forgotten Chris, his presence was not unfamiliar. He had to wonder what was on the younger man's mind, if his memory loss was even of any concern, or if he was happier this way, not being able to remember.

After awhile, Piers spoke up again, albeit quietly. "You said you helped me once. That you had lost your memory once too." Chris nodded. "Did you...have nightmares?"

Chris wanted to lie, but ultimately decided against it, knowing it would do no good to lie. And he didn't _want _to lie if it would help him. "I did. Nearly every time I let myself doze off, even a little bit. Woke with terrible headaches, though that could have been more of a result of the hangovers."

"Hangovers?"

"My nightmares were bad. I felt damn guilty and had no idea why. Not at the time. Only after I recovered my memories did I understand. I drank to drown my sorrows; cliche, I know, but it was the only way for me to cope," he admitted.

Piers frowned pensively. "I found you this way?"

"Yeah...though you weren't exactly happy to see me. Well, I imagine you were just not in that state. You told me very sternly that I would be coming back, one way or another. You tried to force me to remember my men, Edionia; severe headaches were all I got. You dragged me off and forced me to get my shit together." He frowned. "At least until I got my memory back. Then I was too blinded by my vengeance and managed to get my team killed all over again."

"You can't blame yourse-"

"I can and I will," Chris snapped, more harshly than he intended. The others stirred but did not wake, thankfully. His hands gripped his assault rifle so tightly he could feel every angle of it through his gloves. "I _should_ blame myself. If I hadn't been set on revenge against Wong, for Edonia, those men would still be here. I ran recklessly forward, and dragged you and my men with me."

The younger man tapped his gloved fingers against his sniper rifle, contemplating. Finally, he looked over at Chris, gaze a touch scrutinizing. "I don't remember you. Somehow I know that's tearing you up, but in the few weeks I've spent with you, I can tell you're not a bad guy." He frowned, head tipping back to thump against the concrete wall. "I mean, I know I'm an amnesiac, and it probably isn't much coming from me but-"

"It's enough." Piers looked at him, perplexed. Chris went on. "I respected you the most. I...wanted you to take over for me, before."

"Before?"

"Before you infected yourself with the C-Virus to save me. I'm a relic. The future of the B.S.A.A. is with you, not me."

"I'm sure that's not true. Anyway," Piers was unable to stifle a yawn, "if you don't want to rest, I think I will try."

"Go for it. And Piers? Thanks." Piers didn't open his eyes or move from where he leaned against the wall, but he didn't hmph his acknowledgement of having heard him at least. It was enough, for now. A touch of a healing balm over his worst scars. A small smile touched his lips – it was a start.

* * *

_His arm was on fire. His skin itched. His eyes watered. He screamed as his very flesh warped. Ah god, it hurt! He could feel the virus writhing its way through his body and it rotted, twisted, everything it touched. By some act of mercy, it at least slowed after reaching his shoulder. He grunted loud, shoving himself off of the floor as it spread across one side of his face. His right eye changed, but it didn't hurt. Instead, it enhanced his vision, making the whole room come into crystal clear clarity. His eye could pick up every detail nearly in slow motion. _

"_Oh God! Piers! What did you do?" _

_Chris's terrified scream echoed throughout the room, loud in his ears. What __**had **__he done? _

_His arm pulsed and he could feel the energy, the very life in his body, pooling together to fill his arm. He didn't know __**how **__he knew what to do, he just did. With a yell, he lifted his arm and released all that energy toward the massive creature trying to grab Chris, trying to hurt him; a scream ripped from his throat, the weird, mutated gun draining him and causing incrediable pain. _

_The creature threw back its head and howled, pulsing beneath the beam released from Piers. The younger man fell to his knee, out of breath. His body ached, throbbed unmercifully. He couldn't stop now though, he knew. The creature was already recovering and he had to keep it away from Chris. _

_Ignoring the pain, he hefted himself to his feet again. _

"_Chris!" _

Piers awoke with a start, his breath short. Sweat trickled from his brow. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to ignore the startling pain in his head. As always, the nightmare lingered for only a moment, within his reach, before it faded away, leaving him as empty as it always did. After a moment, he could recall nothing but the pain. Only it lingered.

"Piers?"

The younger man opened his eyes to find the older man kneeling down beside him on one knee. He looked concerned, obviously catching on that Piers had, yet again, been suffering a nightmare. "I'm fine," he choked out. He cleared his throat and slowly pushed himself to his feet, the burning in his scars beginning to lessen.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked as he, too, stood.

"Yeah." Piers glanced around the room. "The others?"

"Already up." The captain hefted his assault rifle onto his shoulder. "I didn't have the heart to wake you, at least until I saw you were...uneasy. I know you haven't been sleeping well." He shrugged. "But if you're good to go, we should get a move on."

Piers nodded, eager to get a move on, feeling uncomfortable under the man's concerned stare. Something about it made he jittery, almost nervous, just as his presence had in the locker rooms. The man had assured him they'd been friends and comrades, nothing more, but Piers felt something for the man he didn't understand. It didn't stem from friendship, or even respect; there was something there, something important, and it seemed the only answer was hiding in memories he could no longer recall.

He grip tightened on his rifle for a moment, eyes watching Chris's back as he left.

He wasn't sure if he was ready for that answer just yet.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N**: Lately, I've read a lot of Chris/Piers fanfiction on site and found one author in particular that has, easily, become my favorite Nivansfield writer. Because of those amazing fics, I've found – when mixed with excessive Resident Evil 6 game playing – has brought my spark of Nivansfield back to a roaring fire. So yay! Excited to get this story on its way – and hopefully more in the near future.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, followed, and favorited!

**Disclaimer: **Capcom owns Resident Evil.

* * *

**Memento vivere**

* * *

**July 26th, 2013**

The town was much too quiet. Piers didn't like it one bit; it set him on edge. There should at least be some people, some sign of a struggle, of disruption, but all in all – nothing. Then there was that _name_, Ada Wong. It resonated within him and made his head want to split open like a log. Combine that with the Yet Piers was nothing else if not stubborn. He followed along beside Chris, rifle at the ready, as they made their way through the desolate streets.

"Are we even sure there is anything here?" one of the other men in their unit asked, no doubt feeling the same frustration at having found absolutely nothing. Jacobs; their tactical specialist.

Chris grunted. "The BSAA believed the intel to be genuine. There has to be something; or there _was _something." He stopped their moving forward with a sharp gesture and rolled his shoulders. "We at least have to make a complete sweep of the town. People just don't up and disappear."

"Not without a reason, anyway," Spencer added. The munitions specialist was young, even younger than Piers – he must have worked hard to become a part of Alpha. One thing Piers had come to realize was that Alpha – now and in the past(according to the files) – consisted of the best the BSAA had to offer. Chris included. Even if he couldn't remember the man, it was easy to see why he was Captain; built like a tank, tough but considerate, friendly enough, and he certainly didn't lack for training.

It seemed as if his thoughts kept trailing back to his Captain, no matter where they started.

It was a tad unnerving. It implicated to the fact that they had the tendency to do just that, before he lost his memories. Habits like that suggested the man had been important to him; given the fact he felt _drawn_ to him, suggested he had been _very _important.

So why the hell couldn't he remember him?

"Piers?" Chris's hand touched his shoulder and he nearly jumped. Instead, he scowled. "You doing alright? If you need a break –"

"No!" Piers cut him off, hands tightening on his rifle. He almost hated how much the Captain worried about him, as if he were too scarred and too damaged to be of use. "I'm fine. Let's keep moving."

Chris took his hand back with a frown, a sharp nod given to the rest of the unit. They continued down the street, though nothing appeared to be out of order despite the fact that _every _inhabit seemed to be missing from the picture. It was like looking at a perfectly assembled rifle, that held no ammunition – it looked as it should, but it didn't function the way it was meant to.

The pounding in his temples intensified and he was nearly gritting his teeth by the time they hit the dirt road that circled up around the mountainside. That break didn't sound so bad now. He merely buried the pain beneath his will and continued to follow, the forest beginning around them eerily silent. Piers' eyes narrowed; for every critter inside the forest to be silent, there was something amiss. He couldn't but feel as if they were walking into an ambush; his instincts weren't lacking. The part of him that recalled nothing just simply didn't know what to do with them.

Or what to do with Chris Redfield.

He found himself staring at the captain's back instead of the area surrounding them. His eyes watched the way the muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and released with every movement. The pain in his head lessened some but the sensation of burning began in his scars.

He dropped to one knee with a groan, holding his head with a gloved palm.

Chris was on him in a moment. "Piers! What is it?"

"I...don't know...captain. Ah!" The burning became nearly unbearable, his arm aching with an intensity that frightened him – it felt like it was about to tear itself open. He dropped his hand from his face and found Chris staring at him with widened, almost frantic, eyes. "What...is it?" He ground the words out on a harsh breath, trying to push away and overcome whatever this was.

"Your eye...it's..." Chris swallowed and shook his head. He grabbed a hold of Piers arm and ripped off his glove, before shoving up the sleeve. Piers watched, horrified, as his skin rippled, reminiscent of something slithering beneath his flesh.

"Captain..."

"I told you!" Spencer cried, jerking away from where the two knelt. He waved his gun almost frantically as he gestured for the rest of the team to look. "He's still infected! I told you! We shouldn't have brought him along!"

"Spencer, shut up!" The Captain snapped. His eyes narrowed, but did not move from the rippling skin of Piers' arm. Piers simply tried to breathe, his heart a loud pounding in his ears than drowned out the young man's panicked accusations.

"He'll kill us, he'll kill us!" Spencer swung the gun up and pointed it at Piers over Chris's shoulder.

"Yo, Spencer! Calm your ass down," Jacobs snapped. "Put the damn gun down, would you."

"Gun?" Chris's whole body stiffened and he turned his head, eyes narrowed in a deadly assessment as they found the frightened young munitions expert. His blue grey eyes turned to steel and suddenly, Piers worried for the young man's safety. He didn't know how he knew, but he did – he knew Chris wasn't going to let anyone hurt him. No matter the circumstances, such as remnants of the infection in his blood. Piers shuddered; no, he wasn't a damned B.O.W.!

"Captain! He's mutating!" Spencer cried out in his defense, his hands shaking. He held the gun as steady as he could, though when Chris stood, it was pointed straight at the Captain's heart. His eyes swiveled between Piers and the Captain.

"He is not," Chris assured in a voice that held nothing but deadly calm. "The Anti-C vaccination prevents that, rookie. But it is not 100%. He is expected to have some draw backs, but rest assured, you're all safe. Now." He narrowed his eyes, fingers curling in on themselves as his hands closed into fists. "Lower your gun."

The sensation began to become unbearable. Piers' vision swam, black edging in; he couldn't focus on the confrontation, not while they all spun around him like some twisted merry-go-round. He dropped his blurry gaze to his arm, holding it in front of his face, studying it; as much as his skin twisted and rippled, it never pulled apart. His arm stayed an arm. That was better than nothing, although he couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening to him. He thought the Anti-C might have been failing, but he wasn't mutating as he'd expected.

"C-captain..." He reached out for the older man, then let out a breath as he fell forward into the dirt, unconscious.

* * *

Chris turned his head as Piers called for him, jerking when he heard the sound of the young ace collapsing into the dirt.

_Piers! _

First the signs of mutation, now unconsciousness. It was clear the young man had been in pain and when Chris had seen the moving skin of the ace's arm, he'd begun to inwardly panic, worried that the Anti-C hadn't truly cured him. It hadn't really – for all they knew, it was simply a stop gap until they found a permanent solution that did not involve a bullet between the eyes. He thought he'd lost Piers once, he wasn't about to lose him again.

He knelt beside his second of command and rolled him onto his back. A relieved breath slipped from him; at least Piers' eye had returned to normal. A moment before it had been too reminiscent of how it had been after the ace had injected himself; large, yellow, and inhuman. Chris had felt his stomach drop out from under him upon seeing it. But now all that remained was the scarring. Next he lifted the ace's arm and studied it. Just as his eye had returned to normal, so had his arm. The skin was scarred as if he'd been burned, remnants of his sacrifice, but it was unmoving.

"Captain?" Jacobs stepped up beside him.

"He's fine, just unconscious." Chris turned his eyes toward the confused and frightened rookie. "Put your gun away, rookie. He's not going to tear out your heart or anything." The young man swallowed thickly and nodded as he dropped his gun. "Don't ever point your weapon as Nivans again, do I make myself clear? His recovery is unstable at best, this isn't helping. Got it?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Good." Chris slipped his arms under the unconscious man and lifted him. He turned to face his men, all four of them. "We need to set up for a bit. We won't make much progress until he wakes. Jacobs, take Spencer with you and scout the area. Cole, Gaider; help me set up."

As his men scrambled to do as he said, Chris tried to reign in his thundering heart rate. Still it pumped in fear. He'd thought Piers had been cured, but today's episode had shown him they were farther from the road than he thought, the road they needed to be on to help Piers regain himself. This mission had been a bad idea. Chris sighed, the guilt weighing in on his shoulders; his selfish need to get Piers to remember him had only made the young ace suffer.

Maybe it was better that he didn't remember.

* * *

_The burning was excruciating. He couldn't breathe. Everything was warped. He was running, electricity pulsing around him like a beacon. He didn't know where they were going, just that he had to follow. He blasted the webs, making way for him and Chris to run from the creature, from Haos as it sought to kill them both. _

"_Run Chris!" Piers screamed. "Just run! Leave me!" _

"_No! I'm not leaving you, Piers! Not you!" The captain shook his head and grabbed at him, helping him along the wobbling beams. B.O.W's swung at them as they ran, trying to halt their escape. _

_Piers knew they weren't both going to make it out, that they _couldn't.

_They made it through the doors leading into the escape pod bay and then he was sitting, hunched against the wall. His every heart beat pulsed a current through his body as he watched the captain hunch over, regaining his breath. Piers grit his teeth as his skin moved, the mutation progressing just an inch more; how long until he lost himself completely. _

_Determined, he climbed to his feet with the captain's help, but jerked away when he tried to drag his mutated body into the escape pod. Piers stood straight and shook his head. Handed over his badge before sealing the pod doors. The hurt and fear was evident in Chris's eyes as he screamed at him. _

"_Sorry captain," Piers said, although he knew the man couldn't hear him. He ignored the man's pleas, his heart bleeding with each impassioned cry. He had to get Chris out, that was all that mattered. The pod shot free from the bay and Piers fell back, panting. _

_Chris was safe. _

_He was safe. _

_But then Haos reappeared. Peirs could make out the massive grotesque creature with his enhanced eye; No! _

"_Chris!" _

And then he screamed.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: **Maybe just a bit of relief...for now. Thank you for your reviews, alerts, and favorites!

Also, as a side note, in Resident Evil 5, it was stated that Chris Redfield's eyes were brown...in everything before that, and in wiki, it states his eyes are blue. Oi.

**Disclaimer: **Capcom owns Resident Evil.

* * *

**Memento vivere**

* * *

**July 26th, 2013**

Chris had just started to nod off, sitting up against an aging tree, when the scream woke him. He jerked, eyes snapping open as his whole body went rigid. They jumped around the campsite, trying to find the source; in the matter of a second, the rest of the men had woken to end up staring, slack jawed, at the same point - the thrashing body of their comrade. Piers hadn't woken, instead he continued to holler, his limbs thrashing about as if to ward off an enemy only he could see.

"No. No!" His whole body seized upward, fist flying out, a hit that Spencer barely managed to roll away from. "Chris! Captain!"

Chris scrambled across the dirt and leaves, gripping the young sniper by his shoulders and shaking him. Piers' face scrunched up, his suffering evident. Chris tightened his grip. "Piers! Wake up, Piers!" Chris had never seen such a vivid nightmare; for it to follow the episode from earlier, it was safe to say the captain was concerned.

Piers' eyes snapped open, wide, one slightly wider than the other and a distinct yellow. The scars remained still this time, however, no movement evident on, or beneath, his skin. The younger man panted, sweat dripping down his temples. "Captain?"

"Jesus Piers." Chris let out a breath and leaned back on his haunches. "You scared the shit out of me. Are you alright?"

Silence followed his question and Chris studied the sniper's suddenly perplexed expression. Piers glanced around them, then down at the captain's hands that had remained on his shoulders. After a moment, the bi-colored eyes once more locked onto the captain's face. "HAOS?"

"HAOS?" Chris repeated the word. Then his eyes widened. "HAOS! You...remember?"

"Some," the ace mumbled.

"How much? Tell me everything you remember." The others watched on and suddenly, Chris seemed to realize they were there. He turned toward his men. "Go make a sweep of the area. Thats an order."

"But Captain - "

"Now!" He snapped. "This is something that does not need an audience," he added more softly. "Now go."

The men looked hesitant, but did as he asked. Climbing up from their perspective spots, they grabbed their gear and began to fan out around the campsite, treading further and further into the lightly lit woods around them. Once he was sure they were given a wide berth, Chris turned back to Piers who was still watching him with mismatched eyes. "What do you remember?"

"I..." Piers put a hand against his head and hissed. "It hurts, captain."

"Don't. Please don't let it go, Piers, not yet." He hesitated a moment, then slid his hand from the ace's shoulder to slide his bare fingers against the scarred side of his face to raise it from where he'd hung it against his own hand. "Think Piers. What do you remember?" He repeated the question, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice – although he failed, miserably.

"HAOS..." Piers' eyes darted, low, almost frantic, while he tried to recall more of what had happened. "There was...a man, Jake Muller. A girl, Sherry Birkin. We...helped them escape. HAOS..." He paused with a frown. He groaned and Chris felt his heart skip a beat as the young sniper leaned his face against his hand. "HAOS," Piers gasped the name, "...I ran from it...with you. But, who are you? Mnn!"

Piers shoved Chris's hand away from his face and fell onto his side, clutching his head. Chris quickly moved to kneel beside him, placing his hands over the younger man's trembling fingers as they wrenched themselves into his hair. "Piers don't strain yourself. I'm sorry. You've done good, it's okay." Chris felt like an ass, pressing the younger man for more. It was only bringing him pain; if remembering him brought suffering to Piers, he wanted the young man to live on without remembering. As much as that thought upset him.

Suddenly Piers shoved him away and stood. Chris, thankful for years of trained reflexes, jumped to his feet. They stood face to face, both with bated breath. Piers' expression was one of pain and confusion as those mismatched eyes ran over his captain.

"I know you," Piers muttered. He shook his head. "I know I know you. I can feel it. You're...important."

"Important?" Chris breathed the word, trying to keep himself from hoping.

"HAOS..." Piers clutched at his scarred arm with a frown and closed his eyes. He sucked in a breath, as if to steady himself, though Chris could see the rapid movement of his eyes beneath his lids. "I can see you...we were running, HAOS caught us. No, it caught you. And I...had to save you. The vial from...before...the C-Virus...it fell from my pack after I was crushed, after I lost my arm."

"What else?"

"The mutation. It hurt," Piers opened his eyes with a sigh. "We managed to escape but I couldn't let you bring me out of the facility the way I was...a monster."

"You're not a monster," Chris insisted, taking a step toward him.

The sniper turned on his heel and paced away, obviously frustrated. "I can remember that but I can't remember you!" He snapped. He whirled around and stalked toward the captain, not ceasing his stride until he came toe to toe with him. "Why? _Why_? What are you to me, Captain?"

"We're friends," Chris gulped out.

"Stop lying to me!" Piers nearly shouted the words in his face. The sniper raked his fingers through his short strands and took in a steadying breath. "It's tearing me up that I can't remember you, Captain, I just don't understand why the hell that is!"

Chris wanted to tell him a lie, tell him that they had always been more than friends, but he couldn't. He hadn't realized his true feelings for his second in command until he'd lost him; he couldn't bring himself to use his second chance to his own advantage. "We _were _just friends," he said evenly. "I trusted you more than anyone, Piers. I owe you my life, on more than one occasion."

"Captain..."

He took an unsteady step back from Piers, wanting to distance himself from the temptation of being only a hair's breath away. But the young sniper was having none of it; he closed the distance between them again and narrowed his eyes. Chris had the distinct impression that Piers was assessing the situation, assessing _him_. Not something Chris wanted; Piers missed nothing.

"Piers, it's okay. You don't have to –"

He didn't get a chance to finish. Before another word left him, Piers' hands gripped his vest and yanked him forward, smashing his lips against the sniper's. Chris's eyes widened at the feel of those pillow soft lips, a gasp escaping him; as assessing as ever, Piers took the initiative and slipped his tongue inside of his captain's mouth. Chris was almost too stunned to react, but then it was too much. He'd wanted Piers to remember, wanted to tell how much he'd meant to him; and now that he was here, and this was happening, he couldn't just turn his back and walk away. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around the ace's hips and pulled him flush against his thick build. Piers had started this kiss and Chris wasn't strong enough to let the chance pass him by; he slid his gloved hand into the sniper's hair and deepened the kiss, his thick tongue twining around and teasing the ace's.

He didn't dare pull away until they had to; unfortunately in moments like these, oxygen is a bit of a necessity.

Chris yanked himself away and stepped back, releasing Piers, who wobbled just ever so slightly on his feet. Their chests heaved as they tried to calm their nerves and regain their breath.

"I knew it," Piers said after a very pregnant silence, "I knew you were lying."

"What?" Chris's brows drew down over his eyes, confusion edging in over his hormones.

"You," the sniper pointed a finger at him, "lied to me. We are not _just _friends. You wouldn't have kissed me that way, much less kissed me back, if we were _just _friends, captain."

Chris wanted to deny his words but he could not. Piers' words were true. "We were," he insisted, "though my feelings for you were more than those of friendship."

Confusion once more reigned over Piers' expression. "Then why...?"

"I wanted to be more," the captain sighed. "I didn't realize it though. Not until it was too late. I thought the underwater facility was the end. And then when we did save you, you had no memory of me. Although it's not important. Just forget about it."

"Forget about it?" Piers scowled. "_Forget about it? _You mean like how I've forgotten everything else, like how I've forgotten about you?"

The words made Chris flinch. They hurt. He knew the younger man hadn't meant to make them intentionally hurtful, but the words made his gut churn. Did he really want him to forget about his haphazard confession?

"I'm tired of forgetting!" Piers shouted, his arm cutting through the air in his frustration. "You should know how I feel! It's so damn...frustrating! I try and try to place your face, your name – _anything! _All I get is a damned headache and pain like nothing I've ever felt. But I want to remember, captain!" His chest heaved as he stopped long enough to suck in a breath, stalking forward with determination in his every step. "You didn't pull away from me and I wanted to do that, do something, to prove that. That...that kiss was everything I've been trying to figure out, Chris."

"Piers, this isn't a good idea," Chris said as he tried, one final time, to put some distance between them. Piers didn't remember who he was; he didn't want to take advantage of him. He respected the young ace far too much for that.

"Why?" Piers narrowed his eyes. "You feel something for me, Chris. You can't kiss someone me like that and claim to feel nothing."

"I have to." Chris's voice was not as strong and as firm as he would have liked. He folded his hands behind his back to hide the way they trembled with his indecision. "You need to heal, Piers. We can't...start something, between us, when you can't even remember who I am." He refrained from adding, _even if it is what I really want to do. _

"There are two people involved in this. Two sets of feelings – you can't just decide for the both of us! I am not a damn china doll! I'm not a damn child! You can stop acting like I'm some fragile little thing that's going to break at the slightest hint of pressure." He didn't let him say another word of denial, instead grabbing the older man and yanking him close again, sealing his protest with another claiming kiss.

As much as Chris wanted to fight it, for Piers' sake, he found himself helpless to resist him.

The reality of it being that he just didn't want to.


End file.
